It is at this point in the dream that the strange, familiar feeling begins to creep in. That spooky notion that I have already done this exact thing and that I already know what to do and what will happen because I have already been there. This is common in my dreams, but what disturbs me is that this dream is very different...

Why not? You love him... I am pleading with her, in front of so many others whom I don't even know, however I do feel as though I am older than they. My friends watch me, not sure of how they should help.

He merely smiles his sleazy smile and pulls his daughter away, as she stares back at my friends and me, terrified.

We need a better chairman of the board to outvote him, I remark to my friends.

Too bad he is the chairman, my best friend says through her teeth. We should fix him. Fix him good. She is glaring in the direction of the man's exit.

So let's.

We both smile wickedly, and get back in the car.

This is where the dream gets disturbing.

We drive back into the parking lot, and choose the first student parking space before the few staff spaces begin, on the side of the parking lot directly facing the entrance to the school, which, at this point, begins to seem not so much like a school anymore.

We enter and go into the man's office, which is the first door inside the building. It is a big office, set up as though he were some kind of corporate executive. We begin searching his desk. Although all of the drawers have locks, none of them are secured, so there is no need to search for a key.

In another drawer, we find a briefcase containing two vials; one black and one red, an icepick, a roll of tape, and rope. Our eyes grow huge -- we had found this earlier in the trunk of my car, after the sleazy man helped me fix my tire. This did not happen in the dream, but the memory of it returned as soon as we found this kit in his desk. We promptly throw that away. Upon finding nothing else in his desk, we take the trash and the files we were looking for (I'm still not sure what they were) and return to the car.

A janitor watches us throw the garbage bags away, and we are pulling out in the car when a group of cops stop us.

You have no proof. I am seething with anger and fear, trying desperately to steer the course of the dream back to the way I know it is supposed to go.

We found this in your car, the cop sneers. He pulls out a small black flashlight and hands it to me. This is a computer flashlight, only used by extreme programmers. I know it doesn't belong to you.

I resent his tone. Maybe it is mine, I practically growl at him. I have a laptop, and sometimes I don't feel like turning on the light.

He snickers. He can tell I am fishing, but still can't prove it. The sleazy man comes over to talk to him. My friends and I look at each other, and then he comes over to us. I feel horribly sick as he tries to touch me. I spit at him, and he walks away.

I wish my boyfriend was fucking here, I mumble angrily under my breath. He'd show them.

That would be worse for you, my best friend says gently. You'd both be in more trouble, and would probably be separated for good. They'll never believe us.